


The Echo of Your Abscene in My Mind

by SofiaHolmes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Study, M/M, actually not a bad ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-06 10:16:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4217772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SofiaHolmes/pseuds/SofiaHolmes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the portrait, Albus thought about Gellert and their past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Echo of Your Abscene in My Mind

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually a homework I wrote for my creative writing class. It has not been beta read, so all mistakes are mine.

Life in a portrait was getting boring, Albus Dumbledore admitted.

No, not exactly boring. Boring was a state that one wanted to find an easier way to tolerate the torture of time crawling lazily. Yet for him, he was trying to escape, because now he had all the time in the world to think.

And to remember some fragments from past that he tried to forget.

He always thought about Gellert Grindelwald. 

He never truly analyzed his feelings- affections -for him. He once liked him; he once loved him; he once hated him; he once feared him. And now, now he only desired to forget. 

Yet somehow, ironically, their lives seemed to be entwined together. The passion; the tragedy; the sins; the Duel. And then... at last, Grindelwald's lie. After all these years fighting against Voldemort, Dumbledore thought he had forgotten what it was like to fight against the first Dark Lord. 

Except he didn't, because one could always burn up what they wrote, pity that they couldn't burn up memories. 

He tried. 

He once wrote a lot of things besides paper works and feed-backs and recommendations. He wrote letters, with no names or address on it, but Dumbledore knew they were meant to be letters. What he dared not to say he could always wrote them down. Writing those letters made him feel connected, as if he could expect an answer for the hollowness in his mind. So he went on, writing more and more letters, only to burn them up on one afternoon. He knew he would never permit himself sending them off. 

As he watched the fire died, he thought he finally got rid of those memories that they once shared. And now he knew he was wrong. Those memories had never left. They hidden, and came out when the time was right. 

There were no paper or fireplace in his portrait, so Dumbledore could not even cheat himself into forgetting. Grindelwald's absence echoed in his mind, yet he had no way to replace it with voice or words, mentally or physically. This pained him, but maybe that was the debt he needed to pay for as long as he existed, in any form. 

He thought he heard Grindelwald whispering; he believed he was imagining. 

 

THE END


End file.
